“HOW DO YOU KNOW MY SON?”
The man finally met my eyes.
“My name is Marcus Hale.”
“That wasn’t my question.”
“No, ma’am.”
“Have you been talking to Noah?”
“Yes.”
One word.
My stomach tightened.
“For how long?”
Marcus glanced at Noah.
“A little while.”
“What does that mean?”
“Mom, he’s nice.”
I spun toward my son.
“You do not decide someone is safe simply because they’re nice to you.”
“I know.”
“Then why are you hugging him?”
Noah’s lower lip began trembling.
Marcus’s face tightened.
But strangely—
not at me.
At himself.
“Don’t blame the boy.”
I looked at him.
“Excuse me?”
“I should’ve made sure you knew.”
My anger sharpened.
“Knew what?”
Marcus raised both hands slightly.
“I understand exactly how this looks.”
“Do you?”
“Yes.”
“Then start explaining.”
“YOUR SON HAS NEVER GONE ANYWHERE ALONE WITH ME.”
I hadn’t even asked that question.
Hearing him volunteer the answer sent another chill through me.
“Why would you need to tell me that?”
“Because you’re his mother.”
He nodded toward me.
“And right now, you’re doing exactly what you’re supposed to do.”
That stopped me for half a second.
Noah tugged my sleeve.
“Mom, please don’t be mad at Marcus.”
Marcus shut his eyes.
“Buddy.”
“What?”
“You are making this worse.”
“But she thinks you’re bad.”
“At the moment, she has every reason to be suspicious.”
Then Marcus turned toward his motorcycle.
My chest tightened.
“Don’t move.”
He stopped instantly.
“I’m getting something.”
“What?”
He pointed toward the leather saddlebag.
“Something belonging to Noah.”
I looked down at my son.
His expression told me Marcus was telling the truth.
“What is it?”
Noah said nothing.
Marcus answered:
“Something you should probably see.”
